FOOOOOOTBALLLLLLL

It's about that time of year- one of the greatest times of year, in my opinion. The time of year where you get to sort through all the football columns you can handle, trying to figure out fantasy football and gambling for the year. Here's what I got, starting with my fantasy team, the Double Deuces:

Just a reminder that my team name is a reference to the greatest Swayze movie ever, Roadhouse. Although this year, it takes on a double meaning with #22 Andrew Wiggins.


QB- Aaron Rodgers- I've always wanted him on my squad, and now I've got him. Also, Teens will love this pick, since she is constantly eye-humping the shit out of him when he's on TV. And if we're being totally honest with ourselves here....if he and I are out together in a cozy restaurant, having a nice dinner and some good conversation, and after dessert, the lights are turned down low and the wine is hitting me just the right way, if all of a sudden he tilts his head and leans in close....I'm not sure that I'm turning away.

RB- Chris Johnson- I'm smelling a comeback year from my boy CJ. I took a little bit of shit for this pick, but I've been right on him before, a couple of times.

RB- David Wilson- From the guy who gave you the breakout years of CJ, Doug Martin, Trent Richardson, Clinton Portis, and more...allow me to present to you David Wilson!

WR- AJ Green- I don't have the amazing crop of WRs I had last year, so AJ needs to be a horse for me this year.

WR- Dwayne Bowe- We finally get to see what he can do with a decent QB/coach combination.

WR- Steve Smith- As my third WR, I love him. If he was my second, not so much. At one point in the draft, I was starting to not love my team, but then I got Wilson as my RB2 and Smith as my WR3 in back-to-back rounds, and then I was back in liking my squad. But then I followed that up with...

TE- Kyle Rudolph- My first (and only this year, thankfully) panic pick. I definitely yelled 'DAMMIT FUCK SHIT' as I clicked the 'draft player' button.

K- Sebastian Janikowski- Here's why it's awesome having Bassy, and I try to draft him every year: the Raiders shitty offense stalls out on a lot of drives, and with his big leg, they'll attempt ANY length of field goal. He always gets a ton of shots at 50+, which is almost worth as much as a friggin' touchdown. One of these days he's gonna kick a 72-yarder or something stupid like that, and I'll leap off my couch yelling and celebrating and kicking an imaginary football, and I'll completely shatter my foot on the coffee table, but it will be worth it.

D/ST- Bengals- Normally every year I draft my entire bench before my defense, and just add/drop defenses throughout the year, and it goes about how you would expect it to go. This year, for the first time, I committed to drafting a good defense. We'll see how it goes. I'm pretty much over it already.

BENCH- Vincent Brown- Someone has to be the Charger's #1 WR.

BENCH- Malcolm Floyd- See Brown, Vincent.

BENCH- Eli Manning- He went on the trading block immediately after I drafted him. Guys, this might have been the steal of the draft! I can't believe I lucked into not one, but TWO elite quarterbacks this year! It's just a shame Eli is gonna be rotting away on my bench, it almost seems like he deserves to play somewhere else, you know? Wow, Eli Manning. What a stud.

BENCH- Le'Veon Bell- I'm hoping somebody emerges from Pittsburgh's triumvirate of mediocre running backs to be something slightly above mediocre.

BENCH- Shonn Greene- Handcuffing CJ here, but if it comes to that, I'm fucked anyway.

BENCH- Brent Celek- Whatever.


Now on to the gambling portion of this post, and my favorite type of bet there is: NFL season wins over/unders. Here are the bets I loved the most:


Patriots under 11

It's never a great idea to bet against Belichick & Brady, but I think both the Bills and Dolphins will be tougher this year (oops), and the Pats let every decent WR on their roster go in the offseason, and Aaron Hernandez (in Ron Burgundy voice) probably should have found a safehouse or a relative close by and laid low for awhile. I still think the Pats will win the division, and I might be headed for a kiss-your-sister push at 11-5...but it's tough to get to 12-4 in the NFL these days.

Bears over 8.5

Fuck I hate cheering for the Bears. There are lots of things I dislike about Jay Cutler, not the least of which is that he's married to my boo Kristin Cavallari. But I think they're gonna be decent this year, and there's money to be made. I hate to be a sell-out here, but Cash Rules Everything Around Me, C.R.E.A.M, get the money, dolla dolla bills y'all!



Panthers under 7.5

I can't see how Carolina gets to a .500 record with their schedule and division. Atlanta, New Orleans, Tampa? Figure they go 2-4 there, 3-3 if we're being generous, which means they need to go 6-4 or 5-5 against everyone else. Except they also play Seattle, the Giants, New England, at Miami, and at San Francisco. So they basically need to pull a couple of upsets, or else win every single coin-flip game and avoid being upset once all year. Like Stevie Wonder and the most glorious rainbow in the world, I'm not seeing it.

Redskins over 8.5

There's always one bet every year that makes me feel squeamish literally two seconds after I place it. Just instant regret. I've often wished that gambling websites would offer you a similar message to what happens in Word or Excel when you try to close a document without saving, and it asks you something like "Are you sure you want to exit without saving changes?" I need something like that for win total over/unders. "RGIII is banged up, the league had an entire offseason to try and figure him out, the schedule got tougher, the division ostensibly improved, they're probably due for some regression in the turnover differential department....are you sure you want to exit without saving changes?"

Chargers under 7.5

It feels like Phillip Rivers has been the Chargers' QB for like 25 years instead of seven, and they still haven't won anything with him. At this point, I feel like he needs to hear a slightly adjusted version of the speech that Happy Gilmore's girlfriend gives him as she's breaking up with him. "All you ever talk about is winning a Super Bowl, but there's a problem: you're not any good!" Continuing with the Happy Gilmore parallels, if there was one QB that would take off his skate and try to stab somebody, my money would be on Rivers. Or Cutler, dammit I hate that douchebag.

Stephen from Laguna Beach > Brody Jenner > Jay Cutler


Jets under 6.5

I already thought the Jets would struggle to get to 7 wins...and then this happened. And this happened. And this happened. Today on my gambling site, in the 'bet amount' box for the Jets, I tried typing in "4 bedroom, 3 bathroom house w/ 2 car garage, good neighborhood, Golden Tee NOT included"...but when I tried to submit the bet, it told me that was an improper value. So yeah, I don't think the Jets get to 7 wins.

Bengals over 8.5

Similar to the Jets, I already had an opinion on the Bengals, and had it confirmed by recent events. I thought they would finish with a winning record, and more likely than not make the playoffs....then I watched a bunch of episodes of Hard Knocks at BroMo's place (side note: I had never watched that show before, no HBO and all, but holy hell it is awesome.) Now I think Cincy might go 14-2 and roll through the playoffs with their third stringers, then win the Super Bowl by 87 points while playing with only seven guys per side. Giovani Bernard might run for 3,500 yards this year; you heard it here first, folks.

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One more thing: this year I've decided to fulfill a lifelong goal and bet on every single game all season long. I've always flirted with this idea and never done it.

Maybe it's because I'm a little flush in my account right now since I had a good year last year, then didn't touch my account all summer except to bet on the season overs for the Braves and Royals (which should both be winners, knock on wood.)

Maybe it's because I watched Two for the Money the other day and I completely and totally missed the point of that movie. I mean, yeah, Matthew McConaughey got assaulted and got his face pissed on by gangsters, and Al Pacino had a heart attack every other day....but it still made gambling on sports for a living look pretty sweet.

Maybe it's because I'm married now, and within a couple years we'll be trying to have kids (by which I mean I'll be trying to convince Teens that we should adopt a black kid), and there won't be many more opportunities to do something this selfish. I can sense my own single-guy mortality or something.

Or, maybe it's just because Gamblor has finally taken over the last vestiges of my soul, and it's all over now. Move over Wooderson, time for me to get my face pissed on.

Whatever the reason, it's finally happening this year. Sure, there will be some games where I'm not laying more than $10 or $15 (all Ravens/Steelers games, every time I bet against the Titans, any time Michael Vick is within 100 miles of the stadium, etc.) But the point is, if you're sitting at home wondering if anyone you know has money on the game you're watching, the answer is yes. Your ol' boy Jum Hammonds does. Holla at me.

My Weekend In Three Pictures

I only missed one day of work for this trip, but I'm so buried upon my return that it feels like I missed a week. Plus I'm still tired and a tiny bit hungover from all the festivities. PLUS I ate leftover pizza and a giant-ass piece of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting in the same meal today so now I feel like shit. Add it all together, and I can't justify spending more than six minutes writing this post, when I have more important things to do, like work late/puke/die. Enjoy!


Robert Randolph was awesome as always- as was the food

Finally, they performed 'I Need More Love' during their encore, so I can no longer complain that I've never heard my favorite tune live. The Family Band is also coming back to Lawrence in November. I'll see you there.

(Side note: Yes, I wore a Robert Randolph shirt to a Robert Randolph concert. I knew I was being That Guy, and knew that somebody would blow me up on Facebook once Teens posted that picture (it ended up being Alfonso) and I accepted it as so. You don't get off the hook when you decide to be That Guy, and I wouldn't expect to. Here's my question that I genuinely don't understand: Why is it a social faux pas to represent your band at a concert? When people go to a sporting event, the majority of them are wearing at least one piece of clothing representing one of the participants. When I go to a KU game, I wear KU gear. When I go to a Red Sox game, I wear Red Sox gear. When I go to a high school girls volleyball game, I wear sweatpants so it's easier to rub one out from my hiding spot underneath the bleachers. So why is it such a bad move to wear the band's shirt when you're at their concert? Maybe I don't follow that rule because I don't get it.)



BroMo hooked us UP at the Cardinals game

We paid 0 dollars and 0 cents for these baller seats. And how gorgeous is the view of downtown St. Louis and the Arch? It was my first time at Busch Stadium, and I was very, very impressed with it. Hell of a ballyard.



Hey bro, check out my awesome shot on Golden Tee

That's a tap-in for Albatross, son! One of the best shots I've hit in my entire life, no question. However, please ignore the fact that I'm only -2 through seven holes. I like the old school Golden Tee more; it's as we like to call it, "Golden Tee in its purest form", but it's so much different. It's like the difference between the original Super Mario Brothers and Mario 64 or something.

If you asked me what the only negative to owning a 2005 Golden Tee in the basement is, I would say it's that I'm not very good at the newer Golden Tee in the bars anymore, since I'm completely acclimated to the old machine again. If you asked Teens what the only negative to owning a 2005 Golden Tee in the basement is, she would say that it's being kept awake while the boys are downstairs pounding the trackball and yelling late into the night; or that I chew a lot more now; or that she can tell I'm pretending to listen to her story but really I'm debating whether or not I can muscle a 7-iron into this 17mph wind on #12 at Crawdad Swamp; and she would try to keep listing things but then I would cut in and say "I'm a grown-ass man, OK? I am a grown-ass man and I will play Golden Tee whenever I want! Also, what do you think about trying to shape an A-1 6-iron around this corner? Think it'll clear the water?"

Goin' In The Right Direction

I've mentioned before how I have horrible luck when it comes to concerts. I don't like many current bands enough to see their shows in the first place, and when they do come to town, I'm randomly out of town for something else.

And so it almost came to pass again this upcoming weekend; Robert Randolph & the Family Band, one of my favorite bands on the planet, was inexplicably coming to Teens' hometown of Paola the same weekend we were supposed to be in St. Louis. Luckily, Easy E, LZE, and BroMo were all flexible on their days off, and we're going to be able to squeeze both in.

It's not absolutely ideal; in a perfect world, I'd be able to plant myself in my lawn chair, listen to the opening bands, drink somewhere between 13-16 beers, get my face rocked off by Big Show Bob (copyright Gangel) spend about $21 on chili cheese fries for a bedtime snack**, pass out at my mother-in-law's house, and sleep as late as I possibly could. Roots Fest 2013!!! Show us your tits!!!

Instead, Teens and I have to wake up early the next day to drive to St. Louis, and will still have an entire weekend of attending Cardinals games and golfing and boozing, so we'll want to keep the hangover minimal.

However, here's why I can't complain: there is no way that Robert Randolph should even be playing this concert. If you look at the tour dates, it goes something like:

Washington, DC
Boston
Chicago
PAOLA, KS
Chattanooga
Nashville
St. Paul

You tell me which one doesn't fit. To whomever in Paola has incriminating photos of Randolph and blackmailed him into playing Roots Fest....I'm forever in your debt.

Now, if they would just call me onstage to sing Danyel's parts in 'I Need More Love', followed by Robert telling me he's never heard anyone hit those notes as well as I just did, and inviting me to finish out the tour with them, as per my longtime fantasy, then this will be the greatest concert EVER.




**The best part of Roots Fest (besides it being a BYOB event, um YES this cooler is just for my beer, go get your own) is the food. My goodness, the food. It's set up in the town square, which as I've described before, is straight out of Back to the Future or Gremlins or something. On one street is the stage. The North and South sides are lined with t-shirt/souvenir vendors and the BBQ teams who are there to participate in a BBQ competition.

And then on the fourth side, the street is lined with food carts containing various culinary delights. I call it Fat Kid Alley. As soon as we arrive, the first thing I have to do is go on a scouting mission, so I can plan out all my meals and snacks for the day. "OK, we're going to start out with a burger and some jalapeno cheese sticks for lunch. Mid-afternoon snack, I'm feeling some wings. Dinner will be the giant turkey leg, and what the hell, let's throw in a taco salad. I'll crush some cinnamon sticks at some point in the evening, and the nightcap is ALWAYS the chili cheese fries."

Even with the small town festival prices, I still managed to spend something like 60 bucks in 2011. Just obscene.

Honestly, I would write more, but I just worked myself up into a frenzy and I have to go eat right NOW. My stomach has a huge erection right now, and I think I just drooled into the M key on mmmmy keyboard, it seemmmmmms a bit sticky.

Things That Used To Be Awesome. Volume 5.

Hacky sack.

These days, humans have cell phones to fill up our down time when we're out and about in the general public.  (And what a great time-killer those have turned out to be!  I was in the waiting room at the dentist's office the other day, and when my name was called, I actually asked the receptionist if they could just chill for a couple minutes since I was balls deep in Genghis Khan's Wikipedia page. Did you know that because he banged so many women, and all his sons banged so many women, you can find his lineage in 8% of Asian men?!?! Crazy stuff.) 

However, back in middle school, if you found yourself waiting in line, or bored at your Grandparents' house, or messing around in the locker room before football practice, or waiting for the bus, and especially if you had friends with you....you were probably digging in your pocket to pull out your trusty hacky sack.

I can't think of many things that I was definitively better at when I was 13 than I am now (Rollerblading?  Getting chased by dogs on my trailer park newspaper route?  Stealing half-smoked Dutch Masters from my Dad's ashtray?) but hacky sack might be the best example.  We all had some mad hack skills, son.  And you pretty much had to, when you were playing games like Pelt, or any other game where failure meant you stood against a wall and waited for your best friends in the entire world to throw an object as hard as they possibly could directly at your crotch.

After a year or so, the hacky sack craze died down, then was gone altogether. Among other things (my eyeglasses, my Batman Forever soundtrack, my football career), hacky sack didn't make the transition to high school along with me.

And then, almost inexplicably, we had a second hacky sack phase, the summer after Junior year of high school, around the same time my friends and I started listening to a lot of classic rock.**   It was kind of a chicken-and-the-egg situation, in that I don't really know what happened first:  Did we dig our hacky sacks out of the closet because we started listening to Dylan and Hendrix and Pink Floyd, and it seemed like the thing to do?  Or were we already kicking hack, and we looked at each other and said "Does anyone have any acid rock CDs that they can steal from their parents' collection?  This Goo Goo Dolls just isn't setting the mood right now."

In any event, once again, hacky sacks were never far out of reach.  Cargo shorts pockets, glove compartments, lockers...they were back. And, much like the first go-round, it fizzled out after a year or so. In the last 12 years, I've barely even seen, much less participated in, a hacky sack circle. I imagine they still exist, at concerts, or communes, or any location with a sizable hippie contingent....or maybe not. I'm quickly getting more and more out of touch with the kids these days. Maybe the hacky sack era is completely dead and buried.

Or maybe there's an app for that now.

"Bro, I can't believe those Narcs wouldn't let us into the Phish show just because we didn't have any tickets, what a bunch of Communists, we're just trying to have a good time, br- WHOOOAAAAHHHH! WHO BROUGHT THE FOOTBAGS, BRO?!?! Now we can have fun again, forget those Commie Narcs, bro!"


**Other things that, at various points in time in my life, were seemingly extinct, then came out of nowhere to have an unexplained second run of huge importance:  Professional wrestling; MC Hammer; those friendship bracelets you can buy with like 25 tickets at a video game arcade; David Ortiz; Muppets.

Dufner, Royals/Red Sox, Breaking Bad

Jason Dufner is putting me in a real uncomfortable spot here. I've always made the argument that you can't have two favorite teams. You just can't. There's your favorite, and there's everyone else. That doesn't mean that you can't cheer for and enjoy other teams besides your favorite (I'd definitely do some celebrating if the Vikings ever won the Super Bowl, mostly because of my dad) but you can only have one favorite at a time. Any time somebody tells me something like "Yeah the Cubs and Cardinals are my two favorite teams, so as long as one of them wins the NL Central, I'm happy, LOL!!!" I may smile and nod, but this is the face I'm making on the inside. Teens' friend Brianca has FOUR favorite NFL teams (Chiefs, Raiders, Giants, and Colts) and she may as well be the Antichrist, in my opinion.

Back to the lecture at hand. Regarding Dufner and Phil Mickelson, it's getting close to the point where I may have to eat my own words soon. Last year, I made the analogy that Phil was my longtime wife, and Duf was the temptation that ultimately I could stay away from. Well, I think last weekend I may have got drunk, rented a hotel room and cheated on Phil. During the final round of the PGA Championship yesterday, I was pacing around the room, giving myself an upset stomach, drinking Nervous Lites and mashing through chew like someone was going to take it away from me. Now, part of this agony could perhaps be explained by the fact that I stood to win a good amount of money if Dufner held on; but still, I was every bit as nervous yesterday as I was when Phil was going for his first major back in the day. I'm still perfectly happy with my marriage to Phil...but I think I need to hide my credit card statement and delete some text messages from this last weekend.

"Jason, can you please take your name off your phone? Phil went through my phone and may be calling you. If you can, please take your name off that. Huge. Quickly. All right. Bye."

(Tiger Woods voicemail jokes are still funny, right? Good.)


Also, for those who don't know much about Dufner, he once again put the internet in a frenzy and gave the general public another reason to love him by giving his (superduper hot) wife a "good game" pat on the ass during their celebration on the 18th green yesterday. Seriously, is he the greatest or what?




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An update on the Royals' record when I'm in attendance, after we went to a couple of Red Sox games in KC last week:

Royals when I bet $100 against them: 1-0

Royals vs. Red Sox: 4-3

Royals vs. everyone else: 1-19

UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE. I'm not even going to talk about this right now because I don't want to be angry and upset when I'm eating my hot pockets in five minutes. Lunch time is supposed to be a happy time.

One other Red Sox note:

I'm not sure what kind of future Brock Holt has with the Sox. Presumably, Will Middlebrooks, recently brought back up from the minors, will get his shit together soon. Plus, with studs Bogaerts and Cecchini coming up through the system, suffice it to say, the left side of the infield is pretty well set for the future. But I'd love it if Holt stuck with the squad as the utility infielder or something. It's just wayyyy too much fun (Warning: Arrested Development inside joke coming...) to yell "BROCK HOLT!" and throw my hands in the air after every single thing he does.





Normally I haaaaaate emoticons. Semi-colons and parentheses are to be used for grammatical purposes-- not to convey to somebody that you're fucking winking while you're sending your probably shitty text message. I told Sarunas once that every time she texts me an emoticon, this is the face I make. (I'm sorry for recycling that link, but it's just too perfect.) Having said that, I love that if you're following a Red Sox game on Twitter, and you see a tweet from one of the beat writers that simply shows this

\o/

you know that Brock Holt did something good. No further explanation necessary.


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Breaking Bad is back for the last episodes. I won't say too much, since at some point a full breakdown of Breaking Bad vs. The Wire (possibly my two favorite dramas of all time) needs to happen, but if you're not watching this show....you should be. Go get caught up now, there's still time.

A-Fraud

Over the years, I've made my feelings on Alex Rodriguez pretty clear. (Remember this post? And the reaction from Evelyn from the Bronx?) Over the life of this blog, the only athlete who has taken more abuse from me would probably be Tyler Hansbrough-- but a lot of that was joking around. I couldn't stand A-Rod, especially after he went to the Yankees.

I was cheering and throwing air punches in my living room when this happened:

Best part of this brawl: after getting plunked, A-Rod turned and told Varitek "Real cool, throwing at me on purpose" and Varitek replied with "Don't worry, we don't intentionally throw at .240 hitters" and then fed him a mouthful of Rawlings.

I was literally screaming at my TV when this happened (until the umps got together and correctly reversed the call):



I posted the video and not the picture, because in retrospect, it's kinda fascinating to watch A-Rod here. Between the fact that he would even try a bush league move like this; his behavior in the immediate aftermath (clapping his hands and acting pleased with himself as the ball is rolling away); and his reaction at second base and ensuing argument once the call is overturned....I mean, we should've known all we need to know about A-Rod's character right here, right? The parallels of his behavior during both this play and the drug scandal are almost eerie.

And I refused to watch World Series highlights when this was happening.

In a lot of ways, everything that is happening to A-Rod now is more than I ever dreamed of. To steal a line from Silky Johnston from the Playa Hatas Ball, "I hope all the bad things in life happen to you, and nobody else but you."

And yet, even I can't help but feel a little bit bad for A-Rod. Maybe there's a reason why all that's happening now is more than I ever dreamed of. Although part of me laughs at what a joke he has become, the other part of me is a little bummed. For one, it's becoming obvious that his narcissism has reached the point of delusion. I'm not sure he even thinks what he's doing is wrong anymore; moreover, he's starting to think of himself as the victim in all of this. Not to go all Psychology 101 on you here (I only got a B in that class because I got hammered playing flippy cup the night before the final and bombed it) but having delusions of persecution is one of the earlist signs of psychosis. It's almost sad to watch.

Secondly, and more selfishly, when I thought A-Rod was clean, as much as I hated him, I was still cheering for him to break Barry Bonds' home run record, so at least the most sacred record in all of sports wouldn't be held by a cheater.

So yeah, even after years of disliking A-Rod, I still didn't want his entire career to be destroyed. It seems like we're going a bit overboard here. It's like what Great Britain or one of the other Allied Forces in WWII must have felt like after we dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. I mean, yeah, Japan was kind of a dick, and they started it....but you didn't have to NUKE them. Fuck, man.

(Or, if you'd rather have a little bit lighter analogy, it's like Darth Vader at the end of Episode VI, when he looks over in surprise when the Emperor is electrocuting Luke. I mean, yeah, I knew we were trying to get Skywalker to join the Dark Side, and we were gonna fuck with him a bit, but I didn't know you were gonna brutally murder him right in front of me, bro.)

I do have one more selfish reason for disliking this possible year-and-a-half suspension: If it stands, the Yankees get out of his 34 million dollar salary next year, which allows them to get under the 189 million threshold, which means they can spend with impunity for a couple years again without worrying about paying the "repeat offender" tax. I guarantee you that behind the scenes, the Yankees have been doing everything they can to get this suspension to stick. They've been wanting out of this contract for at least a year now; they were probably disappointed that MLB didn't hand out the lifetime ban, as was rumored to be a possibility. The moral of the story, as it usually is, is that the Yankees are fucking evil.

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Side note: this was the 715th post in this blog's history. So if each post represented a home run, this blog just passed Babe Ruth on the all-time list. Ironic, since A-Rod, who was once a lock to pass the Babe, Hank Aaron, and Bonds to break the all-time record, might not ever play baseball again, much less pass The Great Bambino...."The Sultan of Swat! The Colossus of Clout! The Colossus of Clout! BABE RUTH!"

Back Up In Your Ass With The Resurrection

I've always thought that the two movies that I quoted the most, that most shaped my life, were Dumb & Dumber and Anchorman. But after this last weekend, I may be willing to switch my argument.

On Friday, JDub and I had this back-and-forth, regarding a check I wrote for him a couple months ago that he hasn't cashed yet:

Before the Grammar Police points it out: Yes, I spelled Lumbergh wrong, and yes, JDub used you're instead of your. Sorry for partying.


On Saturday, I had these two exchanges:

Scene: Golf course pro shop, two guys named Mike walk in the same time

Hendo and I, at the same time: Hi Bob!.....Bob.



Scene: My nephew Camden's birthday party, saying goodbye to a parent of another child I met earlier that day

Darren: Nice meeting you Jim, have a good one!

Me: Hey, pleasure's all on this side of the table!


Then, on Sunday:

Scene: A lazy, rainy afternoon on the couch, watching the Bridgestone Invitational. The cameras zoom in on Jason Dufner while he is sporting an egregious case of chew-lip.

Teens: Gross!!!!!! That is absolutely disgusting.

Me: THAT IS WHY DUFNER IS AWESOME.

Teens: He should have to spit that out!

Me: What?!?! It's only chew.

Teens: But this is the PGA Tour, not a round of golf with his friends. This should be illegal.

Me: This isn't Riyadh. They're not gonna saw your hands off here...

Teens: ~Confused silence, followed by eye roll~ Oh. Office Space.

Me: Lovvvvvvve youuuuuuuuuuu.


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So if you're scoring at home, that's one well-played zinger (the Lumbergh line) one where I was stretching quite a bit (Riyadh), one that I use all the time without realizing it (I've said "Pleasure's all on this side of the table" probably 200 times in my life), and one where you might as well tip your cap after you say it, since it's so obligatory-- the Bob line. I mean, what else are you supposed to say when you see two people with the same name at the same time? Of COURSE you have to reference The Bobs.

The weird thing is that this is pretty much a standard few days for me. It certainly wasn't intentional, to turn this weekend into a Mike Judge movie. This post wasn't even supposed to be about Office Space quotes; originally I was just going to write about Dufner and his chewing on the course, that reminded me of everything else that occurred, and I pulled the ol' switcheroo.

I don't really have a point here; I just thought it was bizarre. Sounds like someone has a case of the Mondays.